Acquittal
by skrewtkeeper
Summary: Seeds of doubt are bound to linger when Severus Snape's supposed "redemption" cannot be easily explained. MMAD.


**A/N:** _Definitely M, but not for the immediate reasons you'll believe. This is as close to a lemon as I come I fear. :3 Occurs shortly before the nastiness involving Voldemort and the Potters. I hope you all enjoy!_

**I know you care.**  
**I see it in the way that you stare._  
_**Ellie Goulding _"I know you care"_

He had never led her astray. He had only asked that she trust, and she had willingly for it had never occurred to her to question it. He always seemed reasonable, had always seemed to have an answer waiting for her should she ask, but this time, he asked too much that he trust her. There was far too much she had already seen.

She had tried to argue it to him, to make him see sense, but he would not see reason and eventually she stopped trying; not out of submission, but out of rage, of rational fears unheeded.

She stopped talking to him.

And she knew that it hurt him, but he needed to understand, needed to _realize_ that his unseemly belief to see the good in everyone had to cease. If only to save himself from the inevitable betrayal that she knew would one day befall him, would befall them all.

He needed to see.

And she wasn't going to stand in his way.

๑▬۩▬๑

It was a few months later, an oddly dark day in late August, stormy and the like with dark rainclouds that threatened to undo the very fabric of Hogwarts. But she still stood resolute, much like the witch who had defied its master the few months before. Despite the pain of their dispute, her refusal to believe this prince of darkness had redeemed himself at all, the rain continued to fall, continued to permeate the stone walls. The impervius charms had failed on her corner of the castle and she watched with mild curiosity how her walls soon became damp with the downpour. It was like the walls had given up and were allowing the inevitable to seep within…

But she would do no such thing. Albus had no _sense_. He couldn't possibly believe Severus had reapplied himself, had fixed all the wrongs he had done—he was _Voldemort material._ She was aware of his past, dreadful though it was, for hers did not differ much from it yet she had turned away from the darkness even before it had come knocking. But Severus too had had this chance, had squandered it, and Albus was (blindly, stupidly), encouraging them all to welcome this newcomer into their fold like a sinner turned saint. Minerva was well-aware such things did not happen simply overnight and since Albus could not give her a _proper_ explanation for why the dangerous man was suddenly 'good', was suddenly an 'irreplaceable' member of the Order, would not turn on them at the first opportunity well…surely he was out of his mind. People did not change sides like that unless they were looking for something, and Minerva was _highly_ suspicious of his designs, the things they could not see. What was worse was he was now about to assume the vacant Potions Master post. That had been the final straw and with it, Minerva had stopped talking to Albus completely despite how much she was aware it pained the both of them. He was allowing the darkness to flourish_ in their very midst_. What the hell was he playing at?

But it had been a while and Minerva was loath to admit how much she missed him. His sweet murmurings that would caress her skin like the subtle hum of his magic; his soft sweet kisses, the way he would touch her and hold her… but if it would make him see reason, perhaps her desires were better left sacrificed. Severus Snape could not _possibly_ be the asset Albus claimed he was. Minerva was aware that Snape's position befitted stealthy reconnaissance, to know exactly what Lord Voldemort was up to, but couldn't _she_ have done that, registered animagus though she was? She was fairly certain Voldemort would not notice a cat and if he did, well…had she not proved herself a capable duelist? She could escape if the need arose. It was just so…_infuriating_ that he would place so much trust in a man who had obviously not earned it by any means.

๑▬۩▬๑

A few hours later with the hour waning, the storm had not let up, only darkening the sky further as it grew late. She had never known a storm that had lasted so long. Soon it came time to ready for bed, and she did so in her separate quarters (not speaking for months would not have lasted had she remained in his), turning down her bed and readying her covers as she turned on the shower, finding occasion to wait for it to warm on its own. Normally she would have charmed it, but felt suitably patient enough tonight to wait. She gathered a fluffy, long towel in a shade of lavender she knew Albus would distinctly appreciate before trekking toward the bathroom and her waiting shower.

And _damn_, it felt good. She had had to light the sconces near her vanity in order to see through the pressing darkness. The water felt like gentle rain, the rattle on the floor softened to something sweet as the noise outside reminded her that the storm raged on. After a particularly satisfying _pow_ of thunder, she grinned until she heard the door to her huge shower slide open.

She turned only her head, glaring at the emptiness of air or whoever may have been voyeuristic enough to watch, but if she remembered correctly, the only male in the castle was also the one she was currently avoiding. The emptiness of air availed another clue.

"What do you want?"

She was glad the words came out as sharp as she intended them to as she faced his direction fully. Her husband accompanying her to the shower was not an unusual thing, but because they had been silent for so long, he had no right to…

"Forgive me," his voice was the deep, resonant rumble she was _so_ accustomed to hearing when they were alone. He had to be using it on purpose. "I meant to just—but then I heard the water running so I—"

"—thought you'd invite yourself in? How _typical_ for you, Albus, inviting yourself and others where they do not belong—"

"—thought I would pretend things were…otherwise," he finished. Still invisible, Minerva imagined he would be pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose about now, an effort to ward off a pending headache.

"What things?" she asked flatly, knowing exactly what they were but wondering how he would defend himself. As it was, his appearance had completely distracted her from the original purpose of standing in falling water.

She heard him sigh heavily and shift a fraction nearer to the warmth that curiously divided them. "Between us, my dear," he sighed heavily. "I had come intending to—apologize."

"Are you acquitting him?" she inquired at once.

"No."

She frowned, folding her arms right over her breasts. "Then why have you come?"

He groaned, though at either the loss or the question, Minerva could not be sure. "I had hoped that if I apologized…perhaps things could return to normal." She was almost pleased to detect a hint of bitterness in his voice, but was again unsure as to whom it was directed.

"And why should we, Albus?" she asked again, quietly evaluating, gaging his response.

He then revealed himself, and he was as exposed as she was. She swept her eyes quickly over him, having not seen him like this in months, but he had caught the gesture and smiled at her a little. "Because I miss you terribly, Minerva."

"What if you're making a mistake?" she asked as he stepped closer to her, his eyes looking so hopeful, so lost.

He frowned a little, the hope from his eyes vanishing as he said, "By coming here tonight?"

"No," she reasserted perhaps a little too quickly for he smiled at her a little again. "No, for trusting him. There are so many people he's hurt Albus, perhaps more he intends to…"

He paused, studying her as if she were the most interesting thing in the world, whereas she was comparing him to a handsome, wet sheepdog. Soon, she wouldn't be able to see his eyes and they would disappear just as they did for the breed.

His hands grasped her arms just below her shoulders and his unexpected touch had her surreptitiously gasp. "Is this fear for me?" he asked quietly, though she heard him over both roars of running water.

"For everyone involved," she clarified, but then added reluctantly, "but for you especially."

"Don't you trust me?" he questioned, his voice beseeching. It threatened to rip her heart from within, her arms still clasped protectively over it.

"Of _course_ I do," she retorted sharply, the very idea of the alternative appalling. "It's just—" she broke off, but found the words and continued despite herself, "Do you always place your instincts above everyone's?"

"He won't betray us Minerva, at least not in the way you're implying," he said firmly, though gently rubbing her arms soothed the bite of his tone. "I have very compelling reasons to trust him, my dear, reasons I promised I would never divulge and I do not intend to; I gave my word."

It was beginning to become clearer to her, but it couldn't erase some uncertainties. "But he could have fabricated them!" she protested, desperate that he understand notwithstanding the fact that he was pulling heavily on her sense of equilibrium. She could not willingly give in to this; she would never forgive herself if it meant that someone would be hurt because she too had conceded. "Surely he must know the tactics to use in order to get someone like you to believe him! You know all Slytherins practice the art of manipulation! You of all must understand—"

"His house has nothing to do with this," Albus pointed out, appearing to be trying his best to remain calm despite the things she had said. "You are angry with me, but you've already told me why; you were hurt I supposedly was placing my wisdom above your own rational brand—and it _is_ rational, but you must remember I have seen Voldemort and I know his lies. Severus has not used any typical fallacy the Dark Lord would so plaintively use. I'm sorry I cannot make myself more clear, but he has proven his loyalty to me, and that _needs_ to be enough. I promised I would never reveal him and so I shall not."

She opened her mouth again, ready to protest once more (for surely there had to be _something_ he had overlooked, _something_ he had not considered), when he placed a finger on her lips. "Don't we all deserve at _least_ a second chance, Minerva?" he asked quietly.

She knew he was not merely referring to Severus any longer; he was talking about himself, how he too desperately wanted a second chance, but with her. To stand beside her as he had for the past decade and to lie beside her again at night. His eyes held the fruit of unfulfilled hope, and Minerva could not find it within herself to deny him again, and submitted after putting up a fight she was sure would not be their last.

With a sigh, she reflexively dropped her arms and finally allowed him to hold her while the water cascaded over the both of them, and found herself filled with the peace and reassurance of enduring love she had forgotten just how much she had craved. Perhaps safety was not permanent, but their love could be.


End file.
